Manfred, on the brink of victory as it appeared, shouted at her. “Stay out of it; we have it under control. Back off, bitch, or you, too, will suffer.”
She looked at Rothchild so nearly down and out. Manfred as well was hurt. Richman the leech held the black dagger in his two hands, brandishing a sly grin over at her. Why did he have such?
Manfred and Richmond both seemed pleased. Rothchild had fallen to his face and had little left.
“The truth is we knew you’d come,” announced Manfred oddly. “We have done a little research, pre-planned a bit, for once Rothchild is no more. It seems his longest living descendent, his eldest in line is …” He paused. “… well, it’s you, and you know that the Crim has done a bit of extra tidying up work.”
Claudiva felt horrible, thinking they killed those in her line above her and Drakko just to reach this moment.
“Therefore,” Manfred explained, “you, my dear, will be the one to give your blood in order for us to move forward and finish the summoning. I’m pretty smart, aren’t I?”
Richman added, “Claudiva, do what is right. He does not care about you. Join us and let us slay this defiant rat, then you shall be the eldest and have all the power. You will be one of the three to stand before the first of our kin. Drakko does not love you; he couldn’t care less about you.”
Richman moved closer to her. He desperately wanted her to join them.
“Together the three of us will finish him off. Look,” he pointed out, “behold, he’s down to his last leg. Help us now.”
She was debating her next move, not certain of what she wanted to do, when suddenly Richman sliced into her with the black dagger. He backed off, not attacking any more, seemingly happy with the outcome.
“What was that for?” she cried out.
The minion turned to his master. “I have her blood,” he declared. “I have done what you have asked.”
Manfred now had Rothchild by the throat. He nodded over to Richman. “Good, my servant, you have done well.”
A thousand of their kind then unexpectedly came out from the shadows of the forest here and joined them. Claudiva almost landed on her backside at what was happening; her stomach aching as to all of this.
In the midst of watchful and hungry vampires, with the entire coven circling Rothchild, Manfred stepped back, leaving the weak count to sit alone as Claudiva ran now to him.
It all came down to this; in many ways it had gone full circle.
She knelt near her creator and knew her decision. “I have no plan to leave your side,” she whispered to Drakko. “They will have to kill me as well.”
He gave her a slight smile despite his swollen face, eyes and lips, those covered with bruises and blood.
She wanted him to know how much he meant to her even still after so long. “I have always thought of you as my keeper, my true love. I wanted what you had, and I know you didn’t want to give it to me, but once you did, you were unhappy with such and it broke my heart. The power was too tempting and I knew one day you would give in. I’m sorry, Drakko, I really am.”
The entire coven then hollered and screamed, rushing at them.
Claws and fangs and blood ruled the night.
Claudiva fended off as many as she could and Drakko got up for one last stand, remarkably still with a bit of fight left in him. Those they slew turned vaporous, but more came in after they were gone. There were too many.
The diva’s minions now came in sight, but even Sebastian and Mavark could do little to get through the numbers before them. Each was held back in the crowd, watching everything go on.
The horde of undead pulled the couple apart from one another soon thereafter, and many now jumped and held down Rothchild by his arms, legs, and throat.
Claudiva was yanked back to witness what would be the final blow and she knew they would have to remove his head to do such.
Manfred moved in despite Claudiva’s pleading protests. He took up a sword and sliced Rothchild’s head fully off. The coven moaned, then grew silent; one of the most ancient of their kin now was no more.
The Crim leader lifted Rothchild’s head high in the air and cried out in triumph. He then shaped into a giant bat and flew over the old cabin and tossed the head far below into the raging ocean. Over the cliffs it went and splashed soundly into the water; the same water where Rothchild had recently met the Matriarch of the Sea.
Poseidon would soon have a great sacrifice from the sea goddess, his avatar. The Matriarch sensed the head as soon as it touched her domain, and she was now headed that way.
Claudiva was set free and she held his lifeless body as the others gathered to leave and soon finish the summoning.
Drakko could regenerate, but with no head and such in the flowing water of an endless ocean, he would not be able to ever return whole again; his long life was over.
She sobbed out a hurt she had never imagined was possible.
The coven grabbed her; she did not want to part with Drakko’s body, but they took her away.
A mere moment later the entire area was barren. All that was left was the beaten to a pulp, headless body of the legendary master of the night, Drakko Del Rothchild.
Once back at Vallen Graveyard, all gathered for the final act. Still now even more vampire tribes were arriving and the best of the best, the oldest, and most powerful were at hand.
Manfred called forth, “I stand before this altar to finally summon forward our one maker.” He had the tome ready, and the dagger uplifted at his side. “Men and woman of the Crim, I give onto this tome the blood of your three eldest disciples.”
He then chanted a series of arcane syllables few knew but for the oldest in the circle. Once the magic words were finished, the leader of the Crim took his own blood and that of Victor, followed by the dagger still with Claudiva’s drops of blood on it. Her spill was last to fall on the cover of the tome. The golden etching upon the front held grooves for the blood to penetrate and shape into.
Soon the book started glowing red, then turning orange, and then yellow.
All were at awe; it was happening before their eyes. The entire coven raised their hands up, witnessing a once in a lifetime occurrence. They were praying to the devil. Suddenly an orgy broke out, as all danced naked, tasting one another in a sensual flesh offering.
“Behold,” Manfred pointed out as he watched the tome’s light leave the book and move to the center of the grounds where a slab of stone had been prepared with a pentagram circle. The light swirled about for close to five minutes, when then from that very spot something began to form; it was like nothing any of them had ever seen in their lives.
Those watching had lived two hundred, four hundred or even seven hundred years, yet still it was new to them.
At first it was a snake, a thick wide-bodied, coiled, greenish monstrous python. Then it began to form further, larger and larger until at one point its snake head morphed into a stomach of a woman.
All about were hissing now in utter excitement, licking each other’s lips and celebrating.
Claudiva could not believe her eyes. What was this creature? The night of the vampire had arrived and the world would never be the same.
The forming of the first Nosferatu known to mankind got even weirder as the demon became more intact as to have an upper body of an ample bosomed Goddess of some sort.
The face of a woman sprouted from the snake’s top parts, she with black hair propped high, and almost all white pale skin. A red and gold-trimmed flowing gown erupted about her shoulders; a dress of satin and silk was now her attire. She had a wicked and fanged grimace upon her face; a face with snake scales all about it.
She had been reborn, now alive once again.
Ambrosita had risen!
The essence of her power made all step back as if a thunderbolt of energy waved out at them. Everyone paused in motion, looking at the immortal being.
Then, as she was about to speak, she began to wither. Her body became insubstantial,
almost smoky, as she faded from the arcane patterns, the summoning pentagram circle, down to the stone slab, turning almost vaporous and vanishing entirely.
Every vampire, over a thousand strong, groaned at such a sight. All were in disbelief as they saw their true master fade from existence. They were so close; she was right there before them, they could feel it, they could feel the power; they could feel the world becoming theirs. Each now hissed out, crying in agony at their loss.
Manfred himself fell to his knees. Their maker was here, yet so quickly gone. What went wrong?
“No!” he screamed. “Noooooo!”
Earlier, the head of Drakko Del Rothchild sunk deep into the ocean depths. The Matriarch could feel herself getting closer and closer now; it would soon be in her reach. He was warned of the price he would pay and now his soul was to be hers forever.
Knowing that such an offering would please the Lord of the Sea, Poseidon, she knew also that his brother Hades, as well as Zeus himself, would envy the sea god for such a respectable gift. However, perhaps these Gods were responsible for what happened next or maybe it was a bit of luck.
Someone else got to the head first. She was one-time a Princess of the Moon people; someone who long ago was called Saa. For all that had happened to her, it was an interesting choice as to do with such, as she, too, felt something for this head. It was he who was charming to her, and their friendship was one she enjoyed.
In truth his magic had taken her by surprise at one point, yet oddly now she couldn’t feel such control or love for him. But she wanted such, to know someone on land cared for her like he; even though she had become a dark mermaid unwillingly, she still had feelings. She also knew the Matriarch was on her way to take the head as her own.
Poseidon’s avatar was she, and she had always told Saa, who this Matriarch had renamed Saashia, that she herself was the true Goddess, and always right, and that all the world of water was at her full command. Saa was a mermaid only because this avatar let her be one; allowing her life after she was dying and lost the use of her legs long ago when falling from the sky. In truth she was made to do as the Matriarch commanded all about the dark of the sea.
This time the one-time princess was in control. Thus it was she decided now to do her own bidding. She swam swiftly with the head to the shoreline and, once close enough, threw the head unto the sand near a tall rocky cliff.
She then darted quickly back into deep waters.
The body of Count Rothchild abandoned by the old caretaker’s home felt its presence; it was then that the head slowly slid its way, coming alive; it bit at the vines upon the cliffs, chewing its way up and up, until it reached the surface above; then it was sliding and rolling along the ground to get itself back to its connecting piece and to the thousand year old vampire it longed to reattach to.
Count Drakko Del Rothchild was then reformed.
Chapter 25
He soared as a bat so far from the world he was accustomed to that he lost track of time. In the furthest section of the northeast he spotted an old ruined keep. It would do him well for now. Seclusion was all he desired.
The sound of dripping water inside soon made him frustrated and he had to find why such was here. Below the castle he then came to an underground grotto. A pool of water being fed by a constant drip of water filled such.
Oddly enough a chair, a single brown wooden chair, sat before the pool. He could not think of any better place to sit and take a rest, therefore without hesitation he took a seat before the pool.
It was nice down here. It was quiet!
She appeared out of nowhere; a pretty, fair-haired and blue-eyed lass. How could it be that his beloved wife Estelle was now before him?
She put her finger to her lips as if to tell him not to say anything. “My love, even the smallest amount of faith, that which you have kept through all of these years, has now given us one last chance; one more chance finally to love again.”
Estelle was back and she wore the loveliest of light blue gowns, her hair so pretty, and her face still so youthful. Drakko was ecstatic to have her with him once again. Perhaps love did favor him for once in his lifetime. There was nothing more in this life that could make him any happier than the sight of her. He had finally been given a second chance.
He thought suddenly that perhaps he had moved on, passed from the mortal world. It was fine, though; to Drakko this was just fine. He had what he wanted all along. Heaven wasn’t so bad.
He reached for her. Their lips nearly touched, and he could even smell the aroma of her lovely perfume; his favorite smell in the entire universe. He pulled her closer and this crazy life was about to finally make sense.
She vanished into thin air, an illusion.
His heart sank. He hung his head low, crying out loudly.
From the other corner of the grotto appeared Caroline, her dark and long flowing hair hanging over her face that which she tossed to one side revealing her smile, that amazing grin he so loved. She took his breath away.
“Hello,” she called to him. “God has sent me to you as a reminder that even a little bit of faith, that being you leaving the cross upon your cheek, is enough sometime to change one’s path; sufficient to give one hope. We can now be together, Krons, like days of old. I know you never meant to hurt me. It was an accident and I forgive you with all my heart.”
This couldn’t be, thought Drakko. He swallowed on seeing her for the first time in hundreds of years. He badly wanted to hold her, to feel her skin. The joy Caroline emitted was pure love and she had the upmost gratefulness for all things in life. He wanted to feel that again, to love life, and to have her in his arms.
She came to him now; he reached his hand out to her. He smiled broadly; it was a smile he had held back too long.
“I only hope that you are real,” he made note of. “I have seen things as of late. I do not know what is true and what is not true.” He then took a deep breath, hopeful of what was to come, but scared also.
Just as their hands almost touched, she was gone.
Drakko cried out, “Good Lord, this cannot be! NO!”
It was a terrible yell that echoed for several minutes in the grotto and even out beyond the ruined tower walls above.
Was this a game that Zeus played with him; would such torture never end?
“God,” he then yelled, “am I just a pawn to you?”
He stood and kicked the wooden chair over and paced about the chamber. He sat back down soon after, shaking his head. He was tired beyond words.
Claudiva then came in sight out of the pool; the enchanting redhead had a wicked grin upon her face. Rothchild shook his head as if not to believe this latest vision. He was going mad, he really was. She was naked and wet, yet it was truly her.
“You cannot be,” he said, “you’re not real. I have seen the others I have loved before you, so do not come near me and tell me what could be. Go away, be gone like those before you.”
She stood before him shaking her soaked hair all about. “You ought to know by now that I am unlike any you have been with before. I have come to tell you that I no longer seek to rule the world. I simply want us to be together now. You have always said that love has never treated you kindly, yet here I am, a woman that still loves you, one who loves you dearly. Will you finally have me forever, Drakko?”
Rothchild covered his eyes with his hands. Why was it that the powers-that-be would mess with him? He felt madness enter his body and his mind, thus he closed his eyes and waited for a minute. Claudiva did seem real. She had perhaps found him in hiding; she had the skill to do just that.
He lowered his hands and opened his eyes, and she was still before him.
She smiled. “I told you, I’m here for you, I really am.”
He let her sit on him, leaning her chest to his face. He buried his face between her breasts and for just one moment he thought he had found his true calling.
But then she was gone.
He opened his eyes for rea
l this time and there stood Lilyana near the water.
“This is nuts,” he announced. “You’re not real either. Go away; leave me to wither in my sadness.”
The pretty dark-haired woman gave him a small smile. “I am so happy you were finally able to meet our daughter.”
Drakko hit his head with his own fist trying to snap out of such a trance. This woman looked so much like Tatijana; all of this was too much.
The woman before him was barefoot and wore a simple dark orange summer dress. She was as lovely as a flower. He sighed, watching her come towards him.
She then explained, “I want you to know that I do not hate you. You were a kind man to me, sexy and charming, and to give me so much attention when I was lonely, I cannot be mad at that. I was and am appreciative. I thought you should know such.”
Perhaps this was real, he thought. She smiled at him and his eyes met hers. “Are you real?” he asked.
“Yes, it is I,” she replied. “Can we be a family now? Can we watch over Tatijana and our grandchild to be?”
She then walked up to him and reached both hands out to take his in hers. This time he felt the soft flesh of realness.
“Ah,” he thought out loud, “finally, if my end is upon me, this is where I shall soar into the clouds of my long voyage’s end.”
Suddenly he opened his eyes. His head was against his palms as he sat in an old wooden chair overlooking a pool of water. Lilyana was nowhere in sight. There was no one here in the castle’s dungeon, not a single soul.
He wanted to sob. He again hung his head low; such torture this was.
Yet in the shadows he saw something. To the right in the corner, he saw blue eyes. They were eyes now looking directly at him. “Were you expecting someone else?” she asked.
How in the world had Gaylen found him?
He breathed out; a release built of anxiety.
Gaylen came from the shadows. She wore her best yellow and white outfit he recalled from way back.
“I want to believe you are real,” he then stated, “but I have been seeing all the lovers of my forever existence as of late. Tell me that you are real before me, and I will finally be able to have some peace. I need peace.”
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